Entrenched
by Tomikin
Summary: Harry is attacked by Death Eaters at the back of the Hogwarts Express then thrown from the train, while his friends and the rest of the school travel to a new year unawares.


This is a short beginning I've just started.

Summary: Harry is attacked by Death Eaters at the back of the Hogwarts Express then thrown from the train, while his friends and the rest of the school travel to a new year unawares.

**Entrenched**

A clutch of the Order were gathered in Dumbledore's office. They were all on high-alert, meeting in small groups to discus plans at least once a day.

"Still no word of Potter?" Moody asked, his ridiculous fake eye swivelling to pin Snape with a suspicious stare.

Dumbledore shook his head wearily. "Alas, nothing."

The room became silent; everyone seemed to be holding their breath. Even Snape himself was beginning to feel a desperate need to find the boy. It had been at least four days ago when the boy had gone missing, and at first all he had felt was anger and resentment at the boy's blind stupidity, but now...now he just wanted it to be over.

"What's this, hmm?" Dumbledore murmured, examining a piece of parchment that had apparently appeared in his hands. Snape grimaced at the idea that even the parchments could Apparate all over the place. Perhaps that was what had happened to his third year lesson plans...and that ridiculous research Dumbledore had him doing into the removal of Muggle 'Jelly Babies' from velvet dress robes. The headmaster had claimed that 'you never know when these things my come in handy, dear boy'. Snape had his suspicions.

"Minerva says, one boy, a Hufflepuff, Jamie Kibling, claims he spoke to Harry on platform nine-and-three-quarters just before the whistle blew." He sighed. "She also notes some other students who believe they also saw him."

"We need to interrogate them immediately!" shouted Moody.

"Ah, perhaps that would be a little...brash. But, certainly, they must join us for afternoon tea."

Snape crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at the pandering fool. Potter, the idiot boy, who was supposed to save the wizarding world, was off somewhere, missing with not a bat's whisker of a trace, and they, the Order of the bastard Phoenix, Dumbledore's hobbyhorse group of no-hoping weirdoes (for lack of a more articulate word) were going to have a flowery-rimmed, china-plated, doilies-for-everyone, tea party!

"Is everything all right, Severus? You look a little flushed."

Snape just growled.

"Minerva and myself will check the train," Dumbledore said, standing and pulling on a black, hooded cloak. "The rest of you, check the tracks, everywhere from Hogwarts to the border."

Were they searching for a body? It had been over half a week...if the boy had just been lying somewhere...

"Get a move on, Snape!" Moody growled.

"Why the rush?" he asked cuttingly. "Do you really think we're going to find anything but a rotting corpse?"

Moody lunged at him. "You're a bastard, Death Eater! If it wasn't for Dumbledore, you'd be rotting in Azkaban or I'd've ripped ya heart out meself and fed ya to Lupin!"

He had been walking for hours; he must have gone a good few miles now. But he had only been able to cover one side of the track as he went, and the thought of retracing his steps, along the black grit ground, all the way back to Hogwarts was weighing down his strides. So was the thought of what he might find in the boggy mud of the ditch behind the overgrown grasses.

Through all the trouble the boy had gotten himself into, Snape had never really considered his death a possibility.

He tried to think about how the boy's death would affect the war: what would it mean to the Order? what would Voldemort's next move be? how would the wizarding world react? He tried, but he couldn't think of the answers. He could barely think of the questions.

The only thing he could think of was the boy, mere images running through his mind. The boy's first day, the way he sat on the stool so frightened – just like all the other first years.

He pushed the thoughts away and pulled the long branch back and swung at some grasses.

He growled as the dark clouds directly overhead broke with a loud clap of thunder. He bent his head down at the sudden downpour, causing the hard rain to soak through his hair and drip rapidly off the end of his nose.

Refusing to acknowledge the rains effect, he simply muttered lightly under his breath and tugged his cloak about his shoulders.

He continued to walk along the ditch, beating the tall grasses down to reveal the ditch's hidden muddy bottom.

The ditch was filling with the heavy rainwater, and Snape began to consider giving up and checking back in with the headmaster.

He stopped, finally, and spun on the base of his boots to survey the area. The rain was easing off, but it had turned the fine gravel to crunchy slush, and tiny pieces of the stones had somehow managed to find their way into his high black boots.

It couldn't be much past four in the evening, although the thick black cloud overhead cast the whole area in to an eerie dusk darkness, but he had expected to hear from the Order by now. Maybe someone had thought it would be humorous to leave him out here.

He crouched on the bank...

Anyone interested so far?


End file.
